Womb-Warm
by Wellies
Summary: He has her regard. Somewhat. Heavy AU.
1. Chapter 1

No one has held Hinata since her mother and she has not willfully touched someone else since she was seven, when the wet nurse shooed her away from her baby sister's crib with a few harsh words. Her father's affection was sparing before her mother's death and it has evaporated like dew under noon sun since. Hanabi, grown at eighteen, needs no sisterly caress. Her teammates are sweet, but there yawns a certain sort of distance between them and her. It has always been this way. Kurenai is lovely, but it takes no trained eye to see how hard it was to scrounge up enough will to nurse Mirai after Asuma's death, let alone comfort an errant Hyuuga.

Some fish elude the net.

The nights after she returns home from missions are the only nights she dreams. She dreams about pale limbs and opened chests and empty eyes that stare stare stare. In the days directly after the war she would wake alone in her room with a raw throat and the names of the dead in her mouth. She only leaves her house to visit graves. Those are the worst ones. The best ones begin in a beam of light, hands cupping her face, and someone repeats over and over, "You're safe. I love you." She's never sure who it is—if it is a woman or a man. Nevertheless she awakes with a rosy feeling and floats around her apartment. She arranges picnics outside and invites strangers to eat with her. She tips well and often. One type of dream is rarer than the other, but Hinata lives in flux, and her worst days don't hurt anyone but her.

Her home is cushy. The softest furs and the most gentle silks for bedding. Downy bed pillows and sprawling floor pillows. Cream colors, big windows, and greenery. She trains trailing vines with broad, green leaves to criss-cross the tiles of her shower, so that it feels a bit like a jungle when she bathes. There is a large fern on the bathroom counter. There are Suna cacti in her bedroom and a mat of moss from Rai fixed to the entrace before her apartment door.

No one sees her come and go, but there is always warmth to greet her after a long mission. She keeps her home warm, even in the middle of Konoha's summer. It reminds her of a womb.

She is ANBU now; she applied after the War because she had too many bad days, couped up in a cold, empty apartment with no life in it but her. The other Rookies were indisposed; they had families and clans and loved ones to reconstruct. She had herself. She likes missions because the objective is always clear and the instructions are easy to follow. She is good at following instruction. She is good at fighting for what does not concern her directly—there are only distant things which she wants to protect, and all which formally awaits her is the warmth her apartment affords.

Hinata has no savings and no plans—the co-op she lives in is a perk of the job she does. On the way back from missions she thinks about the food in her icebox, if it is still good, if the bonsai she root-trimmed has started to grown again, and if she is ready to break out the wok to start a meal or could she stand to wait until the morning where she would wake mid-afternoon and stumble to put some tea on before making a feast.

When she returns from her latest task she wastes no time before she heads to the Hokage Tower to turn in her report.

She imagines few people know exactly how lively the Yondaime looks, even at the late hour. He is all gentle smiles and no-under-eye-bags. Sometimes, during longer debriefings, Hinata takes time to imagine what it would be like to have a father with such a kind face.

"You've a report, Geji-san?" he asked.

"Hai. The mission was successful and proceeded without any difficulty," she replied.

"So short," the Hokage laments, a certain sparkle in his eye.

The mission had been a short trek to stake out a bounty collection office in hopes of catching a rogue nin from Amegakure. A dart to the neck, a quick Shunshin, one well-woven genjutsu, and a sealed scroll. That was all it took. Now it is up to the nin in Amegakure to unseal their defector from the scroll which is now on its way to them via carrier.

"Your human seal technique continues to prove useful," he continues. "Your success rate has been stable for the past five months."

She knows. Some days she is even proud.

"You've only taken three weekends over the last three years of your affiliation with ANBU. Never an extended break from being on call."

Hinata stays quiet, hands clapsed behind her back in the formal position.

"The Analysis Division has been collecting data from active ANBU. It has found operatives have roughly four months of active periods before the quality of their work suffers."

She is aware—news of the findings had been slipped under her door during the third month in her active duty cycle, along with a recommendation she take a "mental-health break" at the end of her fourth month. Hinata had flushed it down the toilet.

"You're overdue, Geji-san," the Hokage says. "You are invaluable to us. To continue to allow you to go on missions would be irresponsible."

"H-Hokage-sama—"

"You've been assigned to my protection detail in the interim. Do you accept? Would you rather take a true vacation?"

Hinata opens her mouth, thinks about it, and opens her mouth again.

"Have I not served Konoha well, Hokage-sama?" She has to keep her voice from wavering, and she is glad for the mask on her face.

There is a rush of wind, and Hinata knows the operatives in the room have chosen this moment to excuse themselves from their hiding places. She knows they're not far away, but she is appreciative of the semblance of privacy.

"This is no punishment, Geji-san." The Hokage's voice is soft and warm and Hinata clutches it to her and tries very hard not to sniff.

Hinata thinks about her home and about the windows she's sure she shut. She thinks about the load of clothes in the wash and how they feel when they're warm from the dryer. The zippers in her uniforms are metal and conduct heat, so she would need to avoid them as she folded her clothes. She could put on a pair of pants and a long sleeved shirt from the load. Her skin would feel so nice. Or would it make more sense to bathe? She could scrub away until it nearly felt like she was scratching a scab. Her bedsheets would feel like a treat.

"Your detail shifts would be very light. 3 hours daily. Seven days a week," prompted the Hokage. "You'd work the evenings just before sundown."

Hinata knows her mouth is moving, that she is agreeing to something. It is only outside the office of the Hokage that she removes her mask. Her throat is burning as if she means to cry and she doesn't understand what there is to cry about.

Her home is warm and waiting. She thinks she will Hinata moves down the dim hallway. She should've left through the window, because it would be a faster trip to her shower.

She's out Hokage Tower and near her co-op when she hears someone call her name.

"Hinata?"

Uzumaki Naruto is a sight to see near dawn. He is svelte with hands in his pockets and dressed in civilian clothes. He moves more like a dancer than a fighter. He has long, thick dark lashes, and a jawline that is both pretty and handsome. Straight teeth flash at her. Hinata almost forgets to breathe.

"Do you live here?"

Yes. She's lived here since she took the ANBU job three years ago. "Hai."

"Oh," he says with a sunny smile. "I live here, too."

He holds the door open for her to pass. Hinata tries her best, but her shoulder brushes the middle of his chest as she moves across the threshold.

"How are you?" she asks, because it seems like a good thing to ask in the moment. She does it half-right; her tone sounds sincere but she can't maintain eye contact any longer than it takes to note his location in relevance to her.

His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets again, steps slower than Hinata would like because it means she must slow down to hear his answer.

"Good," he says, and Hinata watches the way his chest fills with air again. "I like to start the day with walks, you know? It's a good start."

Hinata tries to think about the jungle in her bathroom and barely manages to make an interested noise.

"What apartment?"

"3B," Hinata's mouth is on autopilot.

"How are you?"

"Tired," and the word was a something like a sigh or maybe a wish. Naruto takes a breath and scans her up and down as he steps closer.

He is taller than Hinata thought he was and her body decides to take a step back. If he notes it Naruto says nothing.

"Are you okay to get to your place? You look unsteady," he says. "Let me help you."

Without letting her decide, he moves in close and is steering her to the elevator with a push between her shoulder blades. In the lift Hinata thinks of her bed and if her sheets would feel good on dirty skin because she does not think she will take a shower or fold clothes because now it is too late and too early.

They are at her door, and Naruto makes a sound of surprise when Hinata does not bother with keys and just pushes open her front door.

She doesn't remember saying good night. She doesn't remember saying anything. Hinata does not make it to her bedroom before she lays down on a floor cushion and closes her eyes. She hears someone latch the door. That night she dreams of nothing and a smoker's voice saying, "Let me help you" over and over again until it rests like nits on along strands of her hair and questions of "are you okay" crawl like full-grown lice.

* * *

_Geji_ is a Japanese word for the house centipede. For those that remember it, you can consider this a re-write of _Something Like Quicksilver_, but besides an improvement in writing style (possibly), the plot and premise are similar in spirit but dissimilar in application.

Thank you for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Naruto knows himself. He is generous and he is clever. He gets both from his mother, who cooks often and employs all sorts of sly tricks to get him and his father to stay home longer. His mother is his best friend. She is easy to tease. He has known this since he was six, when he peered into the kitchen for a snack and heard his mother gasp and the sound of a broken glass.

_"__Minato!" _And the word was an accusation in a breathy language Naruto did not understand yet. He walked into the kitchen and was welcomed with the sight of his father fighting back a grin.

He is their only child.

Naruto knows he is good-looking because his parents are and they made him. Sometimes he sees it still in their eyes, a type of fierce parental pride. His mother will caress his face and his father will hug him and Naruto knows they like he looks like both of them, that their features blend so well together, that their twoness permit his oneness. His looks permit him all sorts of passes—some he uses and others he does not.

Older women like Naruto. When they look at him they see a son or the spectre of a twenty-something-crush from their glory days. He is the best accessory, especially when he is genjutsu'd to look like a stockier version of himself, or when he dons non-prescription lenses to appear less confident than he is, or when he says _yes _in the right way. The older women who don't like Naruto like Naruko just fine, when Naruto dons the right clothes and when his voice is the right amount of sexy.

_"__You're the stablest recruit," _Ibiki had said to him during the customary mid-year check up for all undercover operatives. _"You don't work yourself to the bone. You don't internalize. You're a rare one. It's like you know yourself." _

He does. Naruto knows himself. He does not imbibe or cook too unhealthily. He starts his day with a walk. He reads when he has time. He hosts dinners with friends. He still visits his parents, to cut their lawn and soak in their pride. When the shakes start and he cries, he calls his therapist.

Naruto only takes one A-rank mission a year. He has since the war because he knows his limits.

When he sees Hinata nearly swaying on her feet, dressed in ANBU gear, with puffy eyes and a vacant look on her face, it almost flares up, and he has half a mind to march to his father's office and ask just what Konoha has left to fight for now, three years after the world nearly stopped. But Naruto's father would probably shrug his helpless shrug and tell him the information was classified.

So he asks Hinata how she's doing after she asks him, and is not surprised when she lets out a plaintive "tired." He moves slowly so as to not disturb when he notices her take a step back, and he is reminded how he must look to her—like a threat. Hinata is tiny compared to him. But he gets her to show him her apartment. Hinata pushes open the door to her home, and the rush of heat which comes from it makes Naruto start. Then she's gone.

The next day, some time during the afternoon, Naruto knocks on her door.

"Hey, Hinata," he says.

She gives a whisper of a smile.

"Have you eaten?" he asks.

Hinata nods, eyes flicking up to him before she looks at her feet, and back again.

"Oh," he says, trying to figure out what to do now. "Well, I live on the second floor. You can come over if you'd like to eat, -ttebayo."

Naruto eats on a strict schedule of 7:00, 1:00, and 7:00 because it is easy to remember and is optimized for his appetite. She smiles and says some soft thing, then Naruto is turning around, brain slack and whirling whirling whirling.

He goes on a mission and comes back. He goes to therapy. He eats, and looks to the door of his apartment, as if expecting a knock. Time passes like that, until he decides he will meet his parents for dinner.

His parents look lovely at their age—they age like good alcohol or perhaps a lumpsum left to collect interest. They cook together, and Minato stands far too close to the backside of his mother, on the pretense of supervision.

"Stay away from Kaa-san," he intones, but the warning is light without real threat.

Naruto is just happy to have both of his parents after the War. Some were not as lucky.

His mother waves a hand, urging him to take a seat at their family dinner table. His parents have lived in the same home since they married. Their house sits on the outskirts of Konoha. There is a fireplace set into the family den. The house has always been small—while growing up, Naruto could hear his parents' commode flush from his room. His parent's love floor-to-ceiling skinny windows, and Naruto moves the family dining table to the corner of their kitchen along the only windowless wall. His parents pretend not to notice the way Naruto sits in his chair, arms crossed tightly and eyes fixed on the two who made him.

Kushina knows Naruto will soften with the first few sips of ramen. Minato breaks away from his wife to sit at the table with his son, who is still strung too taut.

"What time is it?" Naruto asks.

"7:23," Minato replies.

Twenty-three minutes. Naruto lets out a breath and sits up straighter in his chair. He is trying to smooth his brow out so that his parents don't see it crumple.

"Food will be ready soon," Kushina tells him, sensing her son's unease. "The broth came together a bit slower than normal."

Naruto just responds, "I'm hungry." His parents know this is as much of an apology as they will get.

Naruto had been a happy child for a long while, even when he accepted the responsibility of containing the Nine-Tails at age eight. Jiraiya's death was Minato's sorrow, but it was Naruto's as well. The two of them share it together. It stays with them now. Their son knows how easy it would be to send a kunai through a window and take away two more of his precious people.

They all know.

"Geji-san is missing out," Minato says in thanks as Kushina slides a full, steaming ramen bowl in front of him. She eases the same bowl in front of Naruto and retrieves hers before she sits down with her family.

They take a moment of silence before they tuck in.

It isn't until Naruto makes it halfway through his bowl that he thinks to ask who Geji-san is.

"The operative on duty," Minato replies. "Very vigilant. One of the best."

Naruto relaxes, and some of the light fills back into his face.

"I didn't know they patrolled at this hour," he states.

Minato lets loose a small smile. "Every hour."

Kushina asks if Naruto would like another bowl. She holds back her frown when he declines. Minato almost pushes him, the _are you sure? _on the tip of his tongue.

"Fix him a tureen to go, Minato," she says.

Naruto slurps his soup and doesn't meet his mother's eye. He used to be bulkier—he is thinned out now.

"Everything all right?" she asks.

"Mission," he says. "The last target didn't like too many muscles."

Kushina purses her lips and finally Naruto meets her stare. She's glad he doesn't lie anymore; when he first took his job under Ibiki he lied.

Minato hands a full tureen to Naruto, who stands upon his entering.

"Thank you," their son says.

"Good night," his father says.

"We love you," his mother says.

Naruto's cheeks redden under his parents' gazes. _I'm sorry, _he almost blurts out, for his unwillingness to chatter and joke and laugh the way he used to. He knows these dinners get harder and harder for them to endure; he knows he is not a good dinner guest these days. But he supposes they are not good ones either—it seems they all have forgotten how to fill space with words.

These thoughts soothe him, and, with a smile, he strides out of his parent's home and back to his.

"Take care of them," he says aloud to no one, eye drilling into one spot in particular. Then he walks home, hands in his pockets, cheeks red, repeating his mother's _we love you we love you we love you _to himself.

* * *

What do you think?

Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Mirai is a tiny wonder and every time Kurenai shuffles her further into Hinata's home Hinata is reminded. The little girl's limbs are still chubby. There is something in the way she moves, as if she is not quite comfortable walking, even at seven, which makes Hinata and Kurenai hover. It makes everyone who knows her hover. Mirai will know attention all her life.

The fact keeps Hinata warmer than her apartment does. She turned down the heat for Mirai's visit. She always does.

Mirai chirps when she talks. If they were in a different profession, perhaps she would have been a singer. Someone local with a loyal fanbase. A traveling entertainer with gigs and much fanfare. A mother who sings ditties to her children at night.

Mirai will probably not be any of those things because she is already enrolled at the Academy. Kurenai was hesitant to enroll her—she still is, with a gait like the one her daughter has.

Kurenai will pull her out if it becomes too much. They both will. They promise. These are the words they trade in glances passed above Mirai's head.

But right now Mirai is a happy happy child with a bright smile. She lost two teeth playing ball with her classmates. This is a story she relays to her godmother Hinata with big hand movements which threaten to topple her completely.

"And then!" she exclaims in her chirrup. "Then, I lost my two teeth. Two. They fell. They fell in the dirt and I couldn't find them, and neither could Aoi-chan or Gin-chan, and we looked in the dirt for a long time! But nothing. Kaa-chan couldn't either. Shika-niichan didn't want to look. So two of my teeth are free!"

"Free teeth!" Hinata parrots back.

"Free teeth. Two of mine," says Mirai solemnly.

Mirai twirls around her living room, arms out for balance. Hinata follows suit. They spin round and round in place until they can barely keep upright. They collapse onto a knotted rug which covers the "play" area of the living room. They giggle like little girls and exclaim over the way their heads are spinning. Mirai says something about how everything feels different when she covers her eyes. Hinata puts her hands over her own. They start cackling, even though it is hard to narrow down what is funny.

Toward the end of her high it hits Hinata that this is what her and her sister were robbed of. The anger comes unwarned. For a moment Hinata wants to rip up everything. She is still dizzy, but she is red, too. For Hanabi and the seals and the branches and her mother and her father and the whole damn clan. For herself.

"…neighbors, Hina-chan?"

"Eh?"

But Mirai has not mastered the nonverbal prompts yet, so she just blinks expectantly at Hinata. She has turned her whole body into Hinata's, and the older girl mirrors her goddaughter's body language. It is like they are in their own slumber party, trading secrets.

"She asked if you had neighbors, Hina-chan," Kurenai supplies from the kitchen.

"I haven't met them," Hinata says after a moment. The red is gone as soon as it came to her.

Shinobi children are precious children. They are precious for their rarity and for all the other reasons children are precious. But it is the scarity of their temperament—that their joy is a limited joy—soon it will be robbed and altered before returned—which makes them precious. Like cut flowers. They are to be preserved as long as possible. At any cost.

So Hinata and Kurenai entertain Mirai's wish to meet her godmother's neighbors. They make a plate of onigiri and the three of them spend a couple hours knocking on the doors of Hinata's neighbors. Mirai runs up and down the hallway on feet which make Kurenai hover. It takes a long time because some of her neighbors are gone, presumably on missions. Mirai wants to leave each one a note introducing herself and her godmother. Hinata has no pens in the house, so they have to run to a convenience store to pick some up. Some shinobi do answer their doors and because shinobi children are precious they each spend a few minutes chatting with Mirai before congratulating Kurenai on a job well done and nodding at Hinata.

The last door they knock on swings open, and Hinata's mouth goes dry at the sight of Uzumaki Naruto.

"Hinata?" he asks, cheeks already stretching into a smile.

"Ah," is all that leaves her mouth and she steps back as her goddaughter steps forward.

"U-Uzumaki-san?" chirps Mirai. Her cheeks are pink and her mouth agape as she stares up at Naruto.

The blond steps back so that he can look at the little girl.

"Have we met before?" he asks Mirai, whose flush is sweet and innocent.

"This is my daughter, Mirai," says Kurenai.

"Ah," said Naruto. "Mirai-chan. You can call me Naruto."

"Naruto," she says in wonder, looking down at her hands before remembering herself.

"Hina-chan," Mirai hisses, holding out a small hand. Obediently, Hinata places onigiri into it. Mirai presents it to a visibly amused Naruto with a flourish.

"My name is Mirai and I made this with my kaa-chan and Hina-chan," she says. Before Naruto can stretch his hand out to receive his gift, Mirai bows once.

"Please take this and be kind to Hina-chan!" she says, voice now peaky and a bit loud. Hinata doesn't know where to look so she just gazes down the hallway.

"Thank you, Mirai-chan," Naruto says, plucking the snack from Mirai's fingers. Under Mirai's watchful eye, he takes a bite.

"Good?" the little girl asks.

"Very good, -ttebayo," Naruto assures her with a smile. "You're a very good cook."

Mirai smiles with her missing teeth. Kurenai, standing at Hinata's shoulder, mirrors her daughter's expression. For a moment, Hinata wonders about her own mother, and if she and herself ever held twin expressions. She wonders if her mother would have allowed her this if she had asked—if they would have visited the small servant house not far from the Main Branch compound. What would they have made? Onigiri? Bread? Candy?

Mirai likes Naruto, and she wastes no time telling him that he is her favorite neighbor of her godmother's, and won't you take care of her while Kaa-chan and me are gone? Oh, Naruto-kun, you don't eat meals with anyone? Eat them with Hina-chan. She doesn't eat hers with anyone either. Hina-chan is a good cook, did you know that? Her house is pretty. You should come over next time I'm here. Hina-chan and I love to play. Play hide and seek with us next time. I'll come get you!

Naruto is taken aback. Kurenai can see it; he has not met a happy child in a long time. He used to be buoyant like her daughter is—that was before Jiraiya and before the destruction of Konoha under Pein's hand. Before her foolish student threw herself in harm's way for no other reason than because someone had to. To buy Naruto time.

"Conserving the best option for Konoha's survival," was what Hinata called it later. There had been no other way, she had insisted when Kurenai confronted her. Nothing was too precious when it came to life in Konoha, Hinata had said back then, looking at Kurenai's stomach pointedly. Even her own body. There had been rumors among chunin and jonin that Hinata had sacrified herself out of some long-nursed, never-realized love for Naruto. No. The plain truth was Hinata is reckless. Hinata was reckless during her chunin years. It is this recklessness which promoted her to jonin, and it is this recklessness which made her sign a contract with ANBU.

Kurenai nudges Hinata, who starts and tunes back in again. Naruto smiles at her student.

"Good to meet you, Mirai," says Naruto, with more grace than his twenty-three years. "I'm glad you came to visit me."

As he says the last part, Naruto's eyes linger on Hinata, who is in the middle of smoothing a hand over Mirai's hair. He stares as she bends to receive a kiss on the cheek from Mirai. As Hinata straightens Naruto flicks his gaze to Kurenai, who only raises an eyebrow. The man gives a quick, unrepentant grin.

Mirai beams at her new friend before she turns to the arms of Kurenai, who urges her back to Hinata's apartment, leaving the two younger jonin in the hall.

"She's precious," Naruto says, watching Hinata stare after Kurenai and Mirai.

The woman hums a sound of agreement.

"How old is she?"

"Seven," says Hinata.

Naruto would have taken Hinata to be someone who would wear something more feminine and traditional in civilian clothes. Mostly, she looks comfortable—long pants and long sleeves with a _v _for the neckline. No jewelry. Pin-straight dark hair. Those eyes. Naruto must remember this effect if he takes another mission as Naruko sometime soon. Comfortable and beautiful. Someone approachable. Someone to admire.

"Thank you for the food," he says.

"You're welcome," she says. "Mirai likes it when I cook for her. We always have too much in the end."

"Feel free to pass some over this way," Naruto says. His hands don't know what to do, so one alights on the handle of his front door and the other grips its frame.

"I will," Hinata says.

"Yeah, just bring some over next time. I eat loads, dattebayo."

"Sure."

"Even if you just come. That would be fun, too," Naruto says with an easy smile. Hinata is the quietest of the old Rookie Nine; through missions, skirmishes, and wars, few have seen her be anything but polite and helpful. Even when she intervened during his fight with Pein, or when she slapped him after her cousin died, it had been clear she was doing what she felt needed to be done. Like it was her duty.

Hinata's face blanks for a minute before she replies he could very well visit her, too. It can get lonely sometimes, she says. Company is nice to have. For a moment Naruto wants to bristle at the insinuation and almost wants to yell. He is not lonely he has Kaa-san and Tou-san and Sakura and Sasuke and Tsunade and Gaara and Kaka-sensei and Iruka-sensei and Lee and Shikamaru and Choji and Kiba and Konohamaru and many more abroad. But then he takes a breath. There is something to the tilt of Hinata's head which makes Naruto believe her words are less of a judgment and more of a fact.

It can get lonely sometimes. Company is nice to have.

"Will do," is what comes out his mouth. Hinata gives a short bow and is on her way back to her waiting goddaughter.

Two days after his encounter with Hinata he calls Morel-san after he stepped on something soft on his way out the door to Sakura's. Waiting for him were a pair of knitted oven mitts. Now he stares at the mitts which sit on his kitchen island. They feel disruptive. Everything in his kitchen is white and spotless, but for the mitts, weaved from a multicolored yarn. The stitches are not perfect. The mitts stand out. They do not match any of his decor. The longer he looks at the pair the more restless he feels. He picks them up and puts them in drawer, and then is out the door again. He cannot be late to Sakura's.

_Too neighborly_ is what he tells his therapist later.

_A sign of good faith _is what his therapist, Morel, assures him later. _To let you know all is well. _

All is well?

_All is well, Naruto-san, _Morel-san says, voice dampened over Naruto's landline. _Normal behavior for neighbors._

Oh. Naruto tells him about how he almost snapped at the quiet girl before he reasoned himself down. It was like she was stating facts. Nothing personal.

_Is this the same girl from the time with Pein? And Neji?_

Yes. He still does not understand why she did it. Why did she do that? Why would anyone? If he had been stronger if he had been faster more quick and better no one would have gotten hurt no one would be dead now—

_Naruto-san. Please breathe. _Morel-san's voice is firm over the phone. _Those events were unforseeable. You did nothing wrong. Breathe again. _

_If you'd like to know Hyuuga-san's motives, you can ask her. _

She's nice. The admission is plaintive and does little to hide his awe of her and what may really be simmering underneath his statement. Morel doesn't comment on this.

I can ask her?

_Yes, Naruto-san. You can._

* * *

What are your thoughts here? I want to know.

Thank you for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

In the light of the next morning Naruto feels like an idiot. He takes a walk because he doesn't know what else to do. He eats when he comes back. He showers. Perhaps he should call Morel-san. To tell him Naruto was just in the middle of a panic attack—no big deal. He knows all is well. Just sometimes he gets caught up in old memories and it makes it hard to breathe is all. Oven mitts should not have sent him spiralling. But all is well now. He knows that. He does. But since all is well he shouldn't call Morel-san at all, should he? Because all is well. Naruto is okay.

Nonetheless, he sends a message to Ibiki. Naruto will be taking some time off of mission assignments. How long? Indefinitely, unless in case of emergency. He knows it's inconvenient. No, no, Uzumaki-san, take your time. Rest easy. Work is scarce this season anyway. If it's really all right with you… thank you. Thank you.

Someone is knocking on his door.

It could be his neighbor, but it could not be.

"Oi," says a hoarse voice. A series of half-hearted knocks follow.

Naruto opens his door to a couple of familiar faces.

"We're doing brunch," says Shikamaru, looking lazy as ever. Flanking him on either side are Sasuke and Choji. Behind those three are Lee and Sai.

_But it's not 1:00, _Naruto almost says. He peeks a look back into his apartment and at his clock. 12:38.

"What time?" he tries anyway.

"Now, dobe," says Sasuke.

"Right now?" he asks, chancing another look at his clock.

"I didn't stutter, did I?" Sasuke mutters as Shikamaru gives a sigh.

"The place we're going takes a short time to seat groups. We might get there by 12:45," offers Chouji.

"We'll be eating by one," supplies Sai, to which Lee nods approvingly.

"A youthful time for brunch," Lee says. "I would like a virgin mimosa. One o'clock is an inopportune time to display Drunken Fist."

Shikamaru rubbed a hand across his face, and this time it is Sasuke who gives a sigh.

"Where's Kiba and Shino?" asks Naruto as the six of them walk to their destination.

"Onna mission," says Shikamaru through a yawn. Naruto wonders if the man just woke up.

"A Team Eight reunion," chortles Chouji.

"How do you know that?" asks Lee. "I thought they were off mission assignments."

"Who?"

"All three."

"They're a workaholic team," says Sai. "Great Tattoos and Chatterbox were raring to go."

"I forget you live with them now," comment Chouji.

"Yes," Sai confirms, "Them and Chatterbox's bugs. It's all very pleasant."

"Knowing you, you mean that," says Shikamaru.

Sasuke handles their seating, telling the hostess to take her time. They take a seat at 12:38. Naruto knows because he positions himself near the only clock.

"Do you have virgin mimosas?" Lee asks of their waiter.

A pause. "Do you mean orange juice?"

"Yes," Lee says patiently, unfolding his paper napkin to place it in his lap. "But with fizzy."

"I can mix it with ginger ale. We've some from Kumo this morning."

"No sparkling grape juice?"

"Our shipment has not come in, no."

"The ginger ale will be lovely, thank you," says Lee.

"You could have just told him you wanted an orange spritzer," observes Sasuke, who possesses enough tact to wait until the waiter is out of earshot.

"I want a virgin mimosa," replies Lee.

"A spritzer."

"Mimosa."

"Spritzer."

"Mimosa."

"It's too early in the morning for you two to do this." Shikamaru.

"It's not morning," Chouji says with a look in his eye.

"Quite," says Sasuke passively. "It is almost like you just woke up or something."

"Who was the one to wake me though?"

"I'd hope it was your own internal clock," says Naruto finally. "It's lazy to stay in bed until 12:30."

"Don't call me lazy," objects Shikamaru. "I got up at twelve."

"You're lazy," deadpans Sasuke. "And a liar."

"Banter," says Sai out loud, in a tone similar to a conversation about weather between friends. As if he were reading a textbook. "Interaction."

"It's too early for this."

Their food comes at 1:07, which is close enough for Naruto, and he thanks whomever is responsible for his friend group. Sasuke, Shikamaru, Chouji and Naruto were close since they all had been little terrors. Their bond had formed fast and cultivated between clan-Hokage meetings. They used to run down the hallways of Hokage Tower and sneak away from class. Dodging responsibility like they dodged shuriken. When they were genin they'd stage competitve training sessions that lasted until none of them could even stand on their feet.

Even separation into teams hadn't been enough to lessen the bond between the four of them.

Lee started tagging along after the events of the Chunin Exam. Shino and Kiba were always a bit more distant, though they tended to visit when they were done dealing with clan business. Sai… Well. He just showed up one day. And they all made room.

The food is good and Naruto chews slowly. He likes that his friend group understands the value in silence. He is more quiet nowadays. Before the war he used to sit as close as he could to the kitchens of restaurants, if only to hear the dishes clink together as water flowed.

A tap on his forehead.

"Idiot," says Sasuke. "Are we not enough for you?"

"Let him think," Chouji scolds Sasuke, "We all like to daydream, right, Shika?"

"Piss off," says Shikamaru, though the command lacks conviction.

"A youthful dream~" singsongs Lee, swaying a little in his seat. There is a little paper umbrella in his drink. The table watches as he puts the adornment behind one ear.

"No, you're right," says Naruto.

"I was thinking we could go cloud-watching after this," says Chouji, patting his stomach.

"We're grown men," Sasuke says. "We'd look foolish."

"What's that?" asks Shikamaru, now looking more alert. "Anyone can cloud-watch."

"Lazy people cloud-watch," quips Naruto.

"Twelve. I woke up at twelve."

Shikamaru glared as Chouji coughed "twelve-thirty" into his fist.

"Ah," Sasuke says, "liars cloud-watch, too, did you know that, dobe?"

"You learn something new every day, teme."

"Certainly this is dialogue. The kind had between friends," says Sai.

"A wondrous observation," says Lee, nodding at Sai. "Your contributions add to our dynamic. Brilliant, Sai-san."

"Thank you, Lee-san," Sai said modestly.

"It could be fun," says Chouji, now waving for the bill. They all protest, but Chouji insists he will take care of it. No, no. This is the Akimichi way. I've got to pay it all or my mother will ice me out for a week. Put your wallets back, minna-san.

Shikamaru knows all the laziest spots to laze about and so he leads the group of men in a circuitous route. They pass training grounds and groups of trees. The small field they end up in has soft grass to lie in and red flowers. Poppies, perhaps. Today is a good day—plenty of clouds. The sun makes a game of hiding among them. When the sun shines unfettered, Naruto feels warm.

The six men spend the afternoon watching the sky and napping, trading quiet words. They talk about trade routes and vacations. They talk about the newest crop of rascals from the Academy. They rank the best foods from all five nations. They reminisce on funny people they met while traveling. No one mentions the war, and no one mentions a mission. Sometimes they don't speak at all and listen to the sound of grass and rustling leaves on trees. Bird chirps and cicada whines. It's fun like this, Naruto realizes. He always has this revelation during his time visiting with his friends—that it really _is _okay, that all really _is _well.

The episode from last night with Morel-san feels far away, and his call to Ibiki this morning feels far away, and so does all the tension he feels at his parents' home. Naruto wants to think the others needed this day of laziness just as much as he did. When they part ways and walk home, Naruto feels he is waking from a dream. His feet don't want to go home, so he finds himself walking to an old friend's house.

"Oh," says Sakura. "Would you like to come in?"

"Do you mind?" asks Naruto.

"I thought you might be on a mission by now," calls a voice from inside Sakura's place.

Naruto tries to look past Sakura's shoulder and into her home, but he cannot place the voice right away. Sakura stands back from the threshold to let Naruto shimmy through.

There she reclines on Sakura's couch, long and lean and staring at him sharply. It's his coworker. Well, all Konoha nin are his coworkers, but Ino works under Ibiki, too.

"I'm taking a break," he responds.

"Why?"

Sakura lives in a one-story house that is just big enough for her. At capacity it might accomodate two people comfortably. Three is definitely a crowd.

"Personal reasons, you know," Naruto mumbles. "I'm not making good decisions right now."

"Clearly."

Sakura asks if Naruto would like some tea. Green or white? Ginger syrup or simple syrup? You're getting a cup. What, you want a mug? I don't trust you with my handles after last time.

"That was a singular event," Naruto protests when Sakura places a steaming cup on her coffee table.

"You're exactly right," she replies. "I brought you this in case you wanted one."

"Thank you, Sakura," he says automatically, sitting in front of her coffee table. From his vantage point Naruto is under the full heat of Ino's glare, though he tries his best to ignore it.

"Where'd you get this?" he asks, looking at the little knitted square Sakura handed him.

"Hinata made it," she replies as she makes her way back to the kitchen.

"What are you gonna do? Since you have the downtime," asks Ino, picking at her nails.

"Aren't you on break, too?"

"I just came back from a mission. This is one of my free days in my schedule."

"Good for you."

Ino continues to pick her nails, and Naruto does not let her gaze stop him from enjoying his cup of tea. The two do not have much to talk about. They have not for a while.

"How are you?" Sakura asks when she is back from the kitchen. She alights on the arm of her couch, near Ino's feet.

Sakura speaks briskly, and her voice is clear and without many feminine touches. Perfect pronounciation and polite. She sounds a bit like Morel-san.

"Today is a really good day," Naruto says. It's a true statement.

"That's good. I'm glad to hear that," Sakura replies. "What did you do today?"

"We went to lunch. And cloud-watched."

"Who's we?"

"Shika and Chouji and Sasuke. Lee and Sai, too."

Sakura blinks before: "I haven't seen Sasuke in a while."

"He was up in Rai until recently."

"Making amends, I hope," says Sakura. Her humour has always been on the wry side. And a bit dark. It is impossible to tell what she is thinking from her tone. "I wouldn't be surprised if some nin just decided to take him out, even after all this time."

"That wouldn't end well," Naruto says.

"Broken Sharingan," they say together.

They take a moment to bask. Team Seven had been a good genin team. Before Sasuke defected and murdered his brother. And murdered Danzo for ordering the Uchiha slaughter. And then went mad entirely. Back then the two of them had been oriented around his disposition—in their group, he was the only one without parents, and so Sakura and Naruto felt for him. They had even quested to bring him back to his senses after he went rogue. And done it. Then Sasuke left to atone for his wrongdoings. Sakura and Naruto stayed in Konoha.

"We should get together soon," says Naruto.

"We should," Sakura echoes.

All three of them.

"Soon," Naruto repeats.

"Of course."

Sasuke still has a hard time around Sakura. He could barely meet her eyes. Naruto and Sakura know it is because he still remembers the time he actually tried to murder her—Sakura, who had been nothing but kind to him, who had a penchant for healing and conflated her desire to see someone healed with being in love with him. She had taken the attempt in stride—Sakura stayed quiet and vigilant during the War and had been wholly unwilling to do anything to help Sasuke.

Sakura doesn't ask if Sasuke is doing well, and Naruto cannot detect anything in her body language that indicates she is uncomfortable with the Uchiha being back in town, but somehow Naruto knows it is time to change the subject.

"So—"

"Are you hungry?" asks Ino.

Naruto almost answers, but Ino only has eyes for Sakura.

"Kinda, yeah," Sakura says.

"You still got that chicken?" Ino asks, already rising.

"You know where it is."

"Come help me," Ino says. Her tone is the right amount of light. The right amount of playful.

Sakura huffs, but follows Ino into her kitchen. Naruto hears soft chatter. Dishes clink. Sizzle. Shzz.

Morel-san says it will be a bit awkward. Growing back together, that is. It would have been hard even without Madara and Kaguya. It was going to be hard the minute the Uchiha were slaughtered. The first time Morel-san said that, Naruto had thought Team Seven was doomed. But that was nearly two years ago. Sakura and Naruto were solid. Even if they touched on sensitive topics. After all, a few months ago, the two hadn't even been able to get through a single mention of—

Ino steps back into the living room, placing another cup of tea in front of Naruto. This one lacks handles as well.

"Thank you," Naruto says.

"No problem," she says. But there is something to her tone which makes Naruto think there is a problem.

"Naruto," Sakura calls from the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

Ino doesn't look at him, choosing to sip from her own cup, but Naruto knows it may be time to head out.

"I'm good, actually. Just wanted to stop by. I'll be on my way," he says, standing up.

"Oh. Okay. Well, you know your way out."

Naruto leaves to the sound of water hissing in a pan.

"You don't see a problem with him taking a break?"

"No."

"He barely goes on missions as it is."

"Neither do I, Ino."

Ino didn't say anything in response. Her silence was enough.

"Every so often he takes a break. For himself. The last couple years were rough on him," Sakura says.

"They were rough on everyone," Ino is quick to reply.

"He was responsible for so much during the War. All those shinobi dead. Neji. And even before that. Pein."

When confronted with silence, Sakura tries, "His sensei died, Ino."

"Sensei do that sometimes, Sakura. So do fathers," Ino says in a clipped tone. "He's not special."

"I know," Sakura says. "But you know how Naruto is."

"No," Ino lied. "I don't. And it doesn't matter anyway."

And it doesn't. But it did. And he wasn't special. But he was. And so was she. The lot of them—the entire Rookie Nine had lost even as they won the War. Ino had no father at home. Neither did Shikamaru.

When Ino starts to sniffle, Sakura pours a cold glass of water and sits on the couch near her friend. She lays a hand on Ino's shoulder. She offers a tissue when Ino calms down.

Two people lost parents in the War, Sakura reminds herself as she observes her friend. Shikamaru. Ino. Sometimes it is easy to forget that fact. The latest iteration of Ino-Shika-Cho had been so proud during the fray—prouder, even, than the Hyuuga after the loss of Neji.

"Would you like to stay here tonight?" Sakura asks. "We can watch a movie. Or multiple. I don't work during the weekends."

Eyes watering, Ino takes a second to think about it before she nods.

"Would you like some water?" Sakura asks. "I poured some for you."

Ino takes another second, then reaches out to grab at the tall glass, cupping it with both hands as she sinks back into the couch. Ino pulls her legs underneath her bottom. It is so quiet she can hear herself gulp.

"Good?" Sakura checks after Ino finishes.

The blonde nods.

"Excellent. What would you like to watch? Or would you prefer a book? I found this one of photographs from Kusa and Rai. Would you like that?"

Ino thinks, circling the rim of her empty glass with her finger. Sakura stands to retrieve another cup of water. It is important Ino stays hydrated, the shrill doctor's voice in her head insists. Otherwise she will wake up feeling horrible.

"Can we do both?" asks Ino.

"The book and the movie? Yes. But what do you want to watch?"

"You choose. Where's the book? I can get it."

"The shelf."

Sakura chooses the movie. It's a long one with no fighting, set in a fantasy world full of tall buildings and metal, driving contraptions. The people in the film dress in civilian clothes and have little devices they carry everywhere. The main character is a woman who has been in many weddings. She falls in love with a stranger. Ino remarks she'd quite like to live there in that world. Sakura doesn't agree, but she understands the sentiment. Together, the women curl around each other on the couch and flip through the photo book. There are pictures of wildlife they've never seen, still lakes, big rocks, and tiny lichen. There are sketches of mold and handwritten accounts of the photographer's experience camping out in the wilderness. _This was the first time I was able to hear the world for what it was, _he wrote. _I had no-where to be and no-one to meet. My every arrival was in the breaths I took—for the simple exhalation I was grateful. I cried there in the blue hour after the sun descended. I had forgotten what cicadas sounded like; could you imagine? Those great, loud, short-lived catastrophes. I had forgotten them. _

"I didn't mean it," Ino says, just barely audible over the hum of the television. "I'm just angry."

Ino and Sakura turn the pages slowly. Ino wants to double back sometimes and so does Sakura. Ino asks Sakura if she's tired occasionally, and Sakura responds in the negative. Time passes like that, with the soft sound of the television and their quiet sounds of pleasure in the pictures they've found. But Sakura has been on her feet all week. She falls asleep against Ino, warm and soft. Ino carries her to her bed, and tucks her in, and pours a glass of water to put by her bedside, and spends a moment thanking whomever is responsible for the health of her best and longest friend. So sweet. So strong. So kind.

Ino thinks she will take a page from Naruto's book and request leave from missions, too. In the morning, Ino will bring Sakura flowers and tea. As a thank you.

* * *

Comment if you'd like.

Thank you for reading.


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